“Yes,” Fabian said. “Perhaps when you have a wife to occupy your time I might take my bath in peace.”
“Having seen you rescue her ladyship from the stormy sea, there’s no fear of you drowning in the tub.” Mackenzie laughed. “Right, I’d best climb aboard. Trevane is on his way, and the lord likes things done at the click of his fingers.”
“I’m afraid my brother lacks patience and tolerance, is often hot-tempered, but beneath it all he has a good heart.”
Mackenzie’s gaze softened. “I know enough of men to know what ails him, lass
.”
Lillian sighed. “Well, let’s hope in finding Estelle, he finds himself.”
The thud of booted footsteps on the wooden pier caught their attention. Vane strode towards them, his black clothes impeccable after Heather had dried, cleaned and pressed them.
Mackenzie said a quick goodbye, bowed and climbed down the wooden ladder to the rowboat.
As Vane approached, he glanced at the vessel and grinned. “After witnessing my skill with an oar, I expected to be the one rowing us to the shore.”
“After exerting yourself last night, I wasn’t sure you be up to the task.” Fabian suppressed a chuckle. “Freddie and Skinny will ferry you across to the mainland. I assume you stabled your horse in Branscombe.”
“Yes, but now I wish I’d brought my carriage.” Vane yawned. “I hardly slept a wink last night. Whose idea was it to put me in the room next to the Scot? The man snores like a bear.”
Fabian pursed his lips. Needing time alone with his wife, he’d wanted Vane far from their bedchamber.
“Did you gain any information from Aubrey? Mackenzie said he gave you access to the dungeon this morning.”
Devilish was the best way to describe Vane’s grin. “The man is nothing more than a scout though I hope you gave him a clean pair of trousers before sending him on his way.”
An hour earlier, Isaac had taken Ursula and Aubrey to Sidmouth. Fabian wanted rid of Aubrey before the coroner came, and, quite frankly, Ursula could do whatever she pleased as long as she never set foot on the island again.
“One look at Aubrey’s scarred face and I doubt anyone would dare comment.”
“He has an extra bruise or two since last you saw him,” Vane said.
“Only one or two?”
“I used my left hand. I must give my right hand time to heal should I encounter trouble when scouring the rookeries.”
Lord, surely that was the last place Estelle would go. “Thank you for agreeing to search for Estelle.” Fabian had no choice but to swallow his pride.
Vane shrugged. “Thank Lillian. She’s the one who is rather persuasive.”
Fabian reached into his coat pocket and removed the miniature of Estelle. “Here, you may borrow this.” He offered Vane the picture. “It has been some time since you last saw Estelle. This might help to refresh your memory.”
Vane swallowed numerous times. His eyes glazed as he stared at Fabian’s hand. With some hesitance, which was highly uncharacteristic, he took hold of the oval frame.
“Thank you. It may prove helpful.” He did not look at Estelle’s image but simply placed the miniature in his pocket.
“Are you certain you don’t need my help?” There wasn’t a street or establishment in London Fabian had not searched.
Vane shook his head. “I prefer to work alone.”
“I have men posted in Paris and Calais. Another man in Dover.” Fabian retrieved a note from his pocket and handed it to Vane. “Should you wish to contact them, here are their names and directions.”
“Once I’ve spoken to the coroner, I shall head to Dover and speak to your man. I see little point going to France until I’ve exhausted all other possibilities.” Vane cleared his throat. “You understand that the chance of finding her is slim at best.”
“Of finding her alive, you mean.” Fabian could tell from Vane’s expression that he believed Estelle had perished on The Torrens. “She is out there. I know it. Don’t ask me how or why.”
Vane said nothing and simply inclined his head.